Sign of the Past
by Avirra
Summary: Illya has to fight past fences, distance and memories of the past in order to reach his partner. An expanded version of the 10/2 PicFic challenge.


**Sign of the Past**

During the five mile trek on foot, Illya had gone through his rather extensive list of curses in every language that he knew them in. Twice. He was dressed for infiltration, not for a lengthy hike in the woods.

In his quest to find and rescue his kidnapped partner, the Russian had been forced to abandon his car when the directional signal indicated he'd have to enter a fenced and gated parcel of land. Impossible in a car - even from beyond the fence, he could tell that there were sensors and other possibly nasty devices along the road. There didn't appear to be many precautions against entering on foot, so that was the option he went with. But the distance between the outer and the inner fence that was now in sight had been much farther than he'd thought it would have been. Between the terrain and having to duck down periodically to avoid being seen, it had taken him three hours to reach this point.

The bright warning sign cautioning that the area was under quarantine made Illya pause. He knew that Napoleon was somewhere in that building and there were not many things that would keep him from his partner, but at the moment, that one sign was doing the trick.

It might not have given another man as much pause, but Illya was a child of war. Quarantine signs meant death on the other side. New orphans arriving were always quarantined when they first arrived and Illya had witnessed firsthand the after-effects of whooping-cough, smallpox and typhus. Most who became ill in quarantine died there – there were simply not enough supplies or medical staff to do more than keep the diseases down to the unfortunate ones and prevent them from sweeping through the whole orphanage.

Shaking his head slightly as if to banish those memories, Illya crept closer and took a better look at the building. It seemed to have none of what he would have considered even the most basic of precautions that a quarantine area should have. His head and his gut were in total disagreement, but he set his jaw and readied himself to enter. If the place was under a genuine quarantine, he wanted to get his partner out of there and to decent medical care as quickly as possible.

On the other hand, if that sign was a fake? In that case, this particular mutation of THRUSH (Illya had always thought the name for a grouping of thrush to be highly appropriate) would find out how very ill-advised it was to stir up bad memories in a demolitions expert.

The inner fence proved much easier to get past than the outer fence had. Illya was unimpressed by their security, but forced himself to take things very slowly in case the seeming ill-preparedness was actually a ruse to trick intruders to lowering their guard. But it seemed his initial evaluation had been correct - all of the detection and security devices were focused on the road. They had literally not seemed to take into account that someone might simply walk up to the buildings.

Far be it for him not to take advantage of it when the enemy decided to act like idiots. Darts loaded and ready, the blond agent made his way inside with as much stealth as possible. There was no telling what condition Napoleon would be in and he preferred to have as much ammunition available as possible to assist in their escape.

Locating Napoleon did not prove to be too difficult. Illya only needed to follow the annoying voice of the THRUSH interrogator that was with him.

"My men are out even now looking for Mister Kuryakin. We will offer Mister Waverly a package deal for the return of the two of you."

When he heard Napoleon's voice, he could read quite a bit from it. Low, tight, precise wording and tone. That told him Napoleon was in a good deal of pain, but still in control and coherent.

"I actually am looking very forward to that. I hope that you'll allow me to listen in."

"Really? And why might that be, Mister Solo?"

"I don't believe I've heard Mister Waverly laugh out loud. I've always wondered what it would sound like."

To the THRUSH man's puzzlement, Napoleon suddenly started laughing himself. Had he driven the man insane with the pain levels?

"For a man about to die, you seem highly amused, Mister Solo."

"That - that's because I know something that you don't know."

"Fine. I will play your little game for the moment. What do you know that I don't?"

Napoleon's voice went lower, but still bubbled with mirth.

"I know where my partner is."

The man leaned a little closer to hear him better. This would be very useful information to send his men.

"Where is he, Mister Solo?"

"Right behind you."

Before the man could even react, Illya had grabbed him. A few minutes later, the THRUSH man was little more than a pile of bleeding flesh on the floor and Illya was freeing Napoleon from his restraints.

"Couldn't you have just darted him?"

"He was not worth the cost of a dart. Besides, this satrip has annoyed me."

"Plan to blow it up?"

"I do indeed, but first things first. Do you think you can make a five mile journey?"

"Hate to say it, but I think a five yard journey would be a stretch, partner of mine."

"Then we will have to borrow one of their vehicles to get you out of here. By the way, I have."

Frowning as he rubbed his aching wrists, Napoleon looked at his partner.

"You have what?"

"Heard Mister Waverly laugh out loud."

"Really?"

"Really."

"When was that?"

"I believe it was while he was reading your last expense report."

"Those were all legitimate."

"Even the masseuse?"

"Doctor's orders. He told me to relax."

"Did it work?"

"Worth every disallowed penny, tovarich. I'll ask her to come over and let you experience those magic fingers yourself."

"I will probably need it after carrying you out of here. Which we need to do before his men return from their search for me. Ready to go?"

"The sooner, the better, chum."


End file.
